Repercussions
by RoxxyGirl
Summary: There are always repercussions to war. Change is something no one can get used to. Especially if you're an elite Spartan who's had the ways of the past drilled to your bone. Honor, integrity, chivalry. Can Spartan-117 hold true to his training?


The _Forward Unto Dawn _drifted slowly, randomly, without a purpose. A terminal in the cryo room lit up a pale blue, and rapidly dimmed, maintaining a low throbbing pulse. Cortana awoke to the codes and digits, scrolling alongside her virtual walls. She stared in an equivalent to what would be half asleep, as the numbers danced in a hypnotizing manner. Who knows how long she had been inactive, nobody could blame her if she ran a few nanoseconds slower than usual. A surge of data gave her a mental slap, and she followed the encryption back to its source. She opened the file and processed the information, far faster than any human mind could process. She waved a hand, and another file appeared, followed by another, and another. She wasn't sure if her limitations as an AI meant she couldn't dream or not, but it never hurt to be sure. As far as she knows, they'd just won the war, and wiped the floor with the Covenant. And she knows a lot. But it won't hurt to review. She ran through her entries, each one logged with extreme detail and care. She read every single entry, went through every archive, again and again, and couldn't help but swell with pride. Something she didn't even fully understand. A strange _human_ emotion. And all that only took about two and a half seconds. She looked at the date and paused. For some reason she'd missed a cycle. She had programmed her system to wake her once a month so she could do a system check and cryo rundown. Make sure her boy was still alive and kicking. Kind of. If you count cryogenically frozen as "alive" and absolutely not moving at all as "kicking", he should be doing fine. But it had skipped the scheduled brunch, and hadn't activated until now, two months later. She frowned and ran a full system check, digging out the minor bug and fixing it. She ran another check through the sole active cryo chamber just to be sure that everything was okay. Suddenly, something caught her attention. Cortana cursed to herself and almost materialized herself just so she could hit herself in the head, before banishing the thought to move onto more important subjects. The emergency transmitter had weakened considerably to conserve power, probably because she had overslept. Cortana boosted the signal strength to the perfect mix of a decent range while still saving power with pinpoint accuracy. It was unusual for so many flaws to present themselves at once. Cortana chuckled.

"Maybe the lack of companionship is driving me a little crazy." The AI briefly considered waking up the sleeping soldier, just so she could have someone to talk to. Sitting around all alone for long periods of time didn't bode well with her attention span. And she certainly didn't want to end up like Guilty Spark. She made a mental note to make a self destruct program that would activate the moment she started talking like a half digested toaster. She weakened the strength of a few sensors that seemed to be unnecessary, and began entering hibernation mode. She was eating too much power in her little routines, and there was no telling how long the two of them were going to be stuck there.

A pair of Longsword interceptors escorted a weathered UNSC supply ship into the asteroid field blocking the halved frigate from sight. The Longsword's nimbly dodged the floating debris, occasionally blasting a rock out of the way for the less agile transport ship. The trio reached the destroyed frigate, and the Longswords circled the perimeter like hungry vultures. The supply ship slowly descended towards _The Dawn_, looking for a safe area to land. It finally seemed satisfied and decided to touchdown near the rear hold, although it maintained a safe distance from the entrance. Several figures clad in atmosphere suits emerged from the transport, supporting a varied arsenal of human and plasma weaponry. One of the smaller infiltrators took the lead, sporting a M90 shotgun, which seemed almost too large for the slim figure's size. A downsized M6G Magnum Sidearm was strapped to its leg, and it carried a small satchel on its back. The rest of the group followed their leader with uncanny coordination, slipping among the shadows as they approached the hold. The first figure peeked its masked head over the top of the hold, its feet slowly levitated off the hull due to lack of gravity, and only its firm grip on the edge kept it from drifting into the void. The leader beckoned the others forward, and they simultaneously removed lengths of rope from their sacks. They clipped the ropes to the border of the hold, and with a push, propelled themselves towards the inside of the ship. Fingers clawed at the grated floor as they tried to regain some form of balance in Zero G. Some of the party took to walking on the walls and ceilings as the group slowly and meticulously confirmed the insides of the frigate. One by one, they signaled an 'all clear'. The leader put its hand on its hips, and rested the shotgun on its shoulder with one arm. It tried to scratch its head, only to remember the atmosphere suit. It gave a simple wave of its hand, and the rest of the group was off. Like a pack of rabid dogs, they ripped into anything they could find. Lockers, drawers, boxes, nothing was left untouched. They shoved anything of value into the sacks they carried, which soon began to bulge from the spoils. They pried open crates and looted them dry. Several of the crates contained resources such as ammunition, water, rations. Many of them even contained weapons. It was a gold mine. The crates were resealed, and carefully clipped to spare ropes, and shoved out of the airlock, where they dangled in the vacuum, attached to the ship by the sturdy lines, ready to be recovered later. The corpse of a UNSC sailor drifted by, almost perfectly preserved by the cold of space. One of the looters grabbed her unceremoniously by the foot and dragged her stiff body over. It ripped open her clothes and removed the pins and medals she sported on her shirt. It removed the belt and cut the buckle from the leather, tossing the leather out of the hold without a care, and pocketing the buckle. It stopped and stared at the woman's bare breasts for a second, before reaching up and grabbing at a silver locket hanging from her neck. Almost instantly, the leader smashed the butt of its shotgun into the unsuspecting looter's gut. It kicked the looter out of the hold, smacking its head the whole time, where he lay, hanging with the cargo, attached only by his rope to the edge of the hold, punishment for defiling the dead. The leader seemed to glare at its greedy subordinate before looking back to the corpse. It tried to scratch its head again, only to fail due to its suit, before pulling a blanket out of its pack and tenderly wrapped the naked body in the cover. It tucked the floating locket back between the woman's breasts and paused, and one could only assume it was saying a prayer. The leader gently pushed the woman out of the hold. The silence that was natural in void only seemed to deepen as every pillager stopped what they were doing and saluted the sailor as she drifted off into oblivion. Soon, the leader became aware that no work was getting done, and began throwing a tantrum of some sort. One of the larger figures easily restrained it, and after a while, the leader regained its composure, and after ensuring everyone was back at work, walked into the Cryo Bay.

Cortana watched the intruders intently. Several of her makeshift sensors had alerted her to their presence a while ago, and she had spared some power to whatever cameras were still functional in that section. She had watched them come in, tear the place apart, and even their little ceremony. So far, she only knew two things. These people weren't soldiers; they were too undisciplined for that. And that these people weren't civilians; they were too disciplined for that. She zoomed in on one of the larger figures hiding in the shadows. That shape was definitely not human. The elongated head and hunched back made it quite clear that it was an Elite. The Sangheili weren't exactly inconspicuous, and there were several of these aliens on board. Using that logic, this party should be Covenant. Or perhaps they were a group of Sangheili who defected. But that didn't seem right either. While the sizes between the two were about the same, the shape between a Jackal and Human were distinctly different. Many of the looters lacked the Kig-yar's slouch, and not a single one of them had the hand held energy shields the Jackals were known for. The interest in human weaponry was also unusual for Covenant behavior. As one of the looters approached a crate of C-12 charges and C-7 Demo Foam, she noted the posture of the figure. The weapons it comfortably carried only confirmed her suspicions. Many of these looters were human, which meant that the Sangheili and humans were cooperating to pillage the remains of _Forward Unto Dawn_. She frowned at the thought. It didn't seem to compute. True, in order to eliminate the Covenant/Flood threat, the Sangheili and humans had formed an alliance, but after the final Prophet had fallen, that should have been the end of that. The Elite's should have returned to their home, and the humans should be busy trying to rebuild their colonies. She moved the camera's focus to the one approaching the Cry Bay. Even though the atmosphere suits made it difficult to discern genders, the slim figure and posture was definitely that of a female's. A _human _female. She was the leader of this little group, which means that she was the one to talk to. Cortana focused and ran code after code, searching for the right one. Finally, she sent out an encrypted channel directed at the woman.

"This is Cortana, from the _Pillar of Autumn_, temporarily residing on the _Forward Unto Dawn_. Please state your name and purpose." There was what sounded like a small yelp as the woman jumped and unslung her weapon, wildly searching for the source of the voice. The slight motion caused her to rapidly rise into the frame of the doorway, smacking her head. Cortana could hear the impact resonating on the inside of the helmet, and let out a sigh of gratitude. It's been ages since she has last heard any form of sound other than the occasional song she treated herself to once every few months. Just to keep her sane. She gave a light cough and opened the com link again.

"This is Cortana, _AI_ of the _Pillar of Autumn_, temporarily residing on the _Forward Unto Dawn_. Please state your name and purpose." The woman stopped flailing and stared at the glowing holo-pad. She pushed herself back onto the floor and made a hand motion, presumably telling her team to stand down. There was a short burst of static and a voice came over the channel.

"Umm…This is Kelly Hailthorne, Captain of the _Dark Phoenix_. We're here to…resupply." The woman leveled her shotgun to her shoulder and slowly walked towards the holo-pad. She tapped the projector with the barrel of her shotgun. "Show yourself Cortana. I want to know what you look like." The holo-pad glowed brightly, and Cortana materialized herself. Her cropped hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it out of the way, and stared into the visor of Kelly's suit. Kelly let out a low whistle.

"Your holo-pad may look like a hunk of crap, but you sure as hell don't." She circled Cortana, inspecting her from head to toe. Finally, she seemed satisfied and stood up, re-slinging her shotgun. "Alright then Cortana, you know why we're here. Are you going to do anything about it?" Cortana blinked, unsure of how to respond in this situation. Finally she decided a cooperative approach would be for the best. It was also probably the only approach.

"No, no, by all means." She smiled as sweetly as she could muster. "Help yourself to what's available. However, if I could just ask you for one favor…" Hailthorne seemed to take interest.

"Go on…I'm not promising anything until I hear what you want." So she's not a moron. Cortana looked at the cryo tube behind her, and pointed at the frozen giant. Kelly cocked her head quizzically and approached the tube. She brushed the frost off of the glass, and stared for a moment before it registered.

"Holy shit!" she stumbled backwards and grabbed the holo-pad to keep from flipping upside down. Her hand passed through Cortana, who stifled a laugh, and she gripped the pedestal for support as she gawked at the cryo tube. "A Spartan. Spartan IV? No, far too big, but the armor doesn't match the Spartan III. Which means…" Her eyes widened and she turned back to Cortana. "A Spartan II…This thing's holding a Spartan II…" Cortana gave her a slow nod. "They were just battlefield myths…something ONI cooked up to boost morale…I've never seen one before…" Her knees seemed to give way for a moment. "An Honest-to-God Spartan II…" She laughed and leaned against the holo-pad, her hand passing through Cortana again.

"Spartan-117, to be more exact." Cortana stated proudly. Hailthorne stared at her with an awestruck look.

"No kidding? The legend himself, eh?" She peered into the tube again, studying the reflective visor of the MJOLNIR. Cortana let out a light cough.

"Anyways, as I was saying. If you could perhaps bring me and my friend along, we would be very grateful." She debated simply waking up John and letting him just hijack whatever it was they used to get here, but since the diplomatic solution was available, she decided to just go with it. Kelly pondered for a while.

"Alright, fine. We'll bring the two of you with us; maybe I can get some stories or something…" She walked over to the door and beckoned a few Sangheili over. She switched to her team's com channel and began instructing them. They brought in generators and carefully detached the cryo tube from the ship and reattached it to the temporary power source. The Elite's carried the package over to the edge of the hold, and slowly ascended out of view. "Alright, your boy's secure." Hailthorne turned back to Cortana. "We'll have to make a few more trips for the rest of the cargo, but it won't hurt. I'll have the boys fly your Spartan back to the _Dark Phoenix_ and get him hooked up in our cryo bay." She put her hands on her hips. "Now about you…Do you want to go with the first run back, or do you mind sticking around until we finish? With you guiding us, we can clear this place in half the time we would need." Cortana didn't mind either, honestly. She figured that she'd been stuck on the ship for God-knows-how-long; she could most certainly wait a few more hours, maybe even a few days.

"I'm okay with sta-" Cortana froze as data jammed. Numbers, letters, data, none of it could flow, there was just too much. She simply stopped working. The hologram froze and began breaking up; static ran through as the AI attempted to work. But she couldn't. Her gears had clogged and wouldn't function. She was far past her expiration date, it was a miracle she had made it this far. Cortana was dying.


End file.
